Peter opened and closed the device several times, eyeing the dried blood smeared on one side. Jumping out of his chair he bellowed at the top of his lungs.
"Diana, anything?"
"Boss, nothing." Cautiously she entered his office.
"Where's Jones?"
"Following your orders" she replied as Peter paced the small office. He glanced over, seemingly confused, still playing with the tracking device.
"You sent him to the police station to check out a lead."
"Oh." Peter shrugged as he sat down heavily and put the anklet down.
"Do you think he ran?" Diana sat and watched Peter, noting his tired eyes from lack of sleep. He stared at her, with his eyes suddenly wide, full of anger.
"No." Peter stood. "He didn't run. He had no reason to."
"Boss, it was a tough case we just finished."
Peter nodded in agreement. A simple undercover job had turned into much more when it became apparent the mob was involved.
"Maybe his cover was blown."
"No. Neal would have told me." Peter stood. "He got out clean. They had no idea he worked for us."
Diana watched Peter walk out and quickly followed. "Peter, we'll find him."
"I don't want to just find him" Peter countered, turning swiftly. He didn't finish and Diana didn't ask him to. Neal had been missing nearly a week and with each passing day, they were losing hope of finding him alive.
"Peter, go home. Get some sleep."
"I don't need..."
Peter paused as he saw Jones rushing towards him.
"Peter, someone called the station..." Jones stopped to catch his breath. "They said check the storage unit."
Peter swore under his breath. "How many storage units are in the city?" He turned away...
"Wait." Diana grabbed his arm as she exchanged an uneasy look with Jones. "Peter, you're not thinking straight."
He shook his arm free.
"Neal didn't seem right...something happened when he went undercover..."
"So you think the mob has him?"
"I'm not sure."
"Peter, there were storage units near the bust...it's something isn't it?" Jones pleaded.
"Boss, it can't hurt to check them out."
Finally, Peter nodded. "Get a team together and check every one. Call me if you find anything." He watched them leave; both eager to have something to go on, even if it turned out to be nothing. Peter walked back to his office to call Elizabeth; it was going to be another long night.
Two hours later, Peter raced to the hospital arriving five minutes after the ambulance. Rushing in he almost bumped into Diana.
"How is he?"
"I don't know." Diana pulled her boss towards the waiting room.
"You mentioned blood..."
"Not his" Diana quickly put forth. "Peter there was so much blood in there...even the paramedics said no one could survive..." She shrugged. "I rode with him and they couldn't find any open wounds."
Peter sat. "So there was someone else in there?"
"Seems like it" Diana mumbled as she sat next o him. "We also found a gun next to Neal. Peter, his hands..." She paused, shuddering slightly.
Peter lowered his head, resting it on his palm with a heavy sigh. From what Diana had told him Neal tried desperately to escape and his hands paid a huge price.
Peter glanced up when he heard approaching footsteps.
"Jones."
"I called everyone" Jones said as he paced in front of them. "Peter, do you want me to go back and write this up?"
"No. It can wait. You should both go home." Peter smiled weakly as he glanced at each of them. "I'll call you when I hear something."
"Boss..."
"Diana, I mean it." She hesitated briefly before following Jones out of the small room. Peter stood with a slight groan. And then headed out, looking for a vending machine and a much needed cup of coffee.
An hour later, after two candy bars, a bag of chips and more coffee than Peter would admit to, the doctor approached him.
Peter stood. "How is he?"
"Stable. They're taking him into surgery." He clasped his hands together as he spoke. "A couple of his fingers were torn to the bones...he lifted an eyebrow. "We'll do our best to make his hands functional again."
"Functional?" Peter let out a sigh. "He's an artist, he needs his hands."
"We'll do our best" the doctor repeated stoically.
"What about the blood? Are you sure it didn't come from Neal?"
"No. He has a couple of broken ribs and some bruising along the jaw line but...No. The blood is not his."
Peter swore. "I need to talk to him as soon as I can..."
"He's in no condition to be interrogated..."
"You don't understand" Peter interrupted loudly. "We have another person who's in great danger...I need to know what happened in there."
"At the moment my only concern is my patient...I will let you know when he's out of surgery."
Peter watched him walk away before smashing his empty cup and angrily tossing it in the garbage.
"Hey hon." Peter opened his eyes and smiled sleepily at his wife.
"What are you doing here?" He sat up straighter.
"I came to see Neal and bring you a proper breakfast." She held up a bag. "How is he?"
"Who knows" he muttered. "Do you think they tell me anything?"
"Sorry." Elizabeth slid down next to her husband and hugged him briefly. "What's the latest?"
"He's out of surgery and in recovery but that was hours ago." Peter stood and tried to stretch out his aching muscles, stopping when a young woman entered.
"Are you here for Neal Caffrey?"
They nodded.
"He's starting to come out of it. Do you want to be there when he wakes up?"
"Of course..."
"Peter you go. I'm thinking the two of us there might be too much."
"I'll call you..." Peter quickly kissed his wife before following the nurse.
Peter entered slowly, allowing his eyes to take in the typical hospital room before settling them on the man in bed.
Neal's eyes were open but he didn't seem fully awake.
"Hey." Peter approached the bed and placed his hand on Neal's arm. "Neal, are you awake?"
The ex-con eyed him before a weak smile swept across his face. "What happened?" he eked out in a hoarse voice.
The last thing Peter wanted to hear. "I was hoping you could tell me" he countered as he gently sat on the edge of the bed, his hand moving to rest on Neal's chest. "Neal, you've been missing for a week; can you remember how you ended up in the storage unit?"
Neal's eyes narrowed in concentration as he bit his lower lip. "What happened to my hands?" He lifted his arms in panic.
"Peter..." He tried to sit up. "What happened to me?"
"Neal calm down." Peter stood and used both hands to lower his friend.
"Take it easy."
Neal struggled for a few more minutes before the effort grew too much and he drifted back to sleep.
Peter pulled a chair closer and rested his elbows on the bed. He knew Neal needed the rest but he also needed some answers; answers that could only come from the man who claimed he couldn't remember.
Peter stormed into the office.
"Diana, follow me" he ordered as he passed by.
"How's Neal?"
Peter tossed his briefcase to the side and started his computer. "Boss, did you go home?" Diana noted his rumpled appearance.
"No, I didn't go home. I stayed all day and all night at the hospital."
"And?" she prompted, stepping out of the way as he moved to close the door.
"And, I don't have a clue" Peter put forth with a shrug of his shoulders. "Neal can't remember anything, doesn't want any help and now he doesn't want to be touched."
"Boss, do you think...?" Her voice trailed off.
"No!" Peter answered strongly. "I talked to the doctor and they did a thorough exam, he wasn't raped."
Peter shook his head. "We need to figure how what happened to him."
"We will" Diana assured him. "I do have a few answers."
Peter glanced her way.
"The blood is from a female and the finger prints on the gun were Neal's."
"He didn't shoot anybody. What could have been so traumatic that he can't remember?" Peter stared out the window.
"Boss, we have twenty-four hour surveillance at the storage unit. If anyone goes near it, we'll bring them in."
"Good." Peter plopped into his chair.
"Maybe you should go home, get some rest."
"I can't." Peter leaned back in his chair. "I'm going to work for a few hours and then go back to the hospital."
"I suggest you go home first and take a shower; maybe change your clothes."
"Do I stink?" Peter sniffed the air with a small smile.
Diana chuckled softly. Even with all the mystery surrounding Neal's disappearance, knowing he was alive dramatically changed Peter's disposition.
"Boss, you couldn't pay me to answer that" Diana replied as she made a swift exit.
Peter opened the door. "Can I come in?"
Neal was sitting in a chair near the window, staring out. He turned and silently nodded; watching as Peter slowly entered holding a bag.
"What's in there?"
"Food" Peter answered, emptying the contents on the tray. "Elizabeth thought some home cooked food would do you some good."
"Sorry about earlier."
Peter stopped and stared at his partner. "I know" he said before continuing his task.
"They freed one of my hands." Neal held up the right one, free of most bandages but noticeably swollen and discolored.
"How does it feel?"
"Odd" Neal admitted, "But all the fingers seem to work." He wriggled them.
"Can you use a spoon?"
Peter moved the tray closer.
"Is the doctor ok with this?"
"Yes" Peter answered. "I called first and you're not on any restrictions. If you finish the soup, there's pot roast also."
"Not that hungry" Neal said as he grabbed the spoon and played with it, until he found a position that didn't hurt.
Peter watched, ready to spring into action if Neal needed help.
"Stop watching me" Neal spit out before spooning some soup into his mouth.
With a quiet sigh Peter pulled over the other chair and turned his attention to the silent TV.
"Did you figure anything out?"
Peter nodded as he glanced his partner's way.
"Are you going to tell me?"
"Not sure you're ready."
Neal dropped the spoon and pushed the tray away, causing most of the contents to spill out. "Do you think I'm enjoying this? Come on Peter, I can't remember a whole week and you're going to hold out on me."
Peter stood and patiently filled the bowl with more soup. "Eat and then we'll talk. I'm going to get some coffee." He walked out.
Peter retuned an hour later to find the soup and most of the pot roast gone.
"I thought you weren't hungry." He tossed a candy bar on the tray.
"Peter, what did you find out?"
"Not much" the agent admitted as he opened his own candy bar and took a bite. "The blood found on you and around you came from a female. And the prints on the gun were yours."
Peter held his finger up before Neal opened his mouth. "Before you say anything I don't believe for a minute that you shot a woman."
Neal absorbed Peter's statement with a smile, grateful that the agent had enough faith to believe that he didn't do it.
"Peter, why can't I remember?"
"What did the doctor say?" Peter knew they were bringing in a psychiatrist to talk to Neal.
Neal grabbed the candy, ripping the wrapper open with his mouth.
"That I'll remember when I'm ready. Peter, what if the girl is still alive? We need to find her."
Peter sighed, ready to accept what others had already stated. "Neal, the blood was a few days old. If she's still alive, someone already helped her."
"And if no one did?"
Peter eyed his partner. "Then there's nothing we can do for her."
Neal lowered his head. "I need to know the truth."
"Neal, we both do."
Peter neared his partner, and watched him struggle with the wrapper.
"Can I?" He held his hand out.
"Yeah." Neal released the candy bar and leaned back, drawing his knees in. He accepted the freed bar and started gnawing at an end.
"Mozzie said he'd stay with me."
Peter shrugged; they had argued earlier about Neal going home but he refused Peter's offer to stay at the Burke's. "Good to know" he said evenly as he finished up his coffee. "I should get going." Peter stopped just short of the door.
"Call me if you remember anything."
Neal nodded and watched him leave. He curled up in the chair and went back to gazing out the window, and wondering.
